Where Do Broken Hearts Go? | Unexpected Series Book One

Chapter 3: Chocolate topping and Captain Ice Cream

Beth's POV

I stare at Harry, then down to his hand, back up to his face and to his hand again.

I must look like one of those damn bobble head things.

I slowly extend my own hand and take his extended one. It's warm as it encloses around my smaller one.

"Beth," I reply with a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you Beth," his face lights up as he returns my smile.

I notice it makes his eyes seem even brighter, then I notice I'm still holding his hand in mine.

"I...uh, sorry," I apologise.

A commotion behind me of banging bowls and cutlery cause me to turn around to see all the groceries now put away except for the tub of ice cream left out alongside a bottle of chocolate topping.

"Hey, no!" I say, "dinner first guys!"

"We've had ice cream for dinner before mum!" Chloe rolls her eyes at me.

Lord, let the ground open up and swallow me please.

"I was sick with the flu, it was an exception," I reply through gritted teeth.

I turn back around to see Harry try to hide a grin.

"Would...do you want to come in? I mean, I'm sure you're really busy..." I ask, knowing he probably won't want to but I have to pay him back for his generosity.

"Do you want some ice cream Harry?" Chloe yells from behind me.

I watch Harry grin, his dimple making an appearance.

For some ungodly reason I want to stick my finger in it.

"Sure," he says as he steps past me and into the house, "I see you've found the topping too..."

Well okay then, come on in Harry.

He sounds just as excited as they do.

I close the door behind him and follow Harry to the kitchen area, watching him remove his coat and place it over the back of a chair before rolling his sleeves up.

He grabs the bottle of topping and starts to squeeze it over each bowl, except for Jamie's as he lets him know he only likes his plain.

They all move over to the table and eagerly tuck in.

Right...

Guess its ice cream for dinner then.

I perch myself on a stool at the breakfast bar and watch as my children alternate between groans of how good the ice cream is and thanking Harry profusely for said ice cream.

I suddenly have a mental image of Harry standing in a spandex costume, his cape and hair blowing in the breeze as he holds a spoon in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, saving dessert one day at a time.

Captain Ice Cream...

The clinking of the spoons into bowls snaps me out of my random thought as my kids sit back in their seats, dreamy expressions on their faces.

Almost like they're drunk.

Drunk on ice cream.

"Okay guys," I say, "it's been a really long day, and you need to get to bed."

"But mum!"

"I'm not tired!"

"Just a bit longer!"